


Body Heat

by WaifuJuju



Category: Etrian Odyssey Series, 新・世界樹の迷宮2 ファフニールの騎士 | Etrian Odyssey Untold 2: The Fafnir Knight
Genre: Basically everyonexFafnir, Gen, POV Second Person, cuddle fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-12
Updated: 2016-02-12
Packaged: 2018-05-19 22:32:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5982910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaifuJuju/pseuds/WaifuJuju
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Frozen Grounds are cold, yet the Fafnir Knight is surprisingly warm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Body Heat

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever fic so I hope you like it!  
> Fafnir Knight's POV.

When you first stepped onto the snow of the Frozen Grounds, the ice crunching under your boots and the wind blistering at your bare skin, you didn’t give it much thought. Despite the shrill winds coursing through your clothes and armor, you’re still warm. You’ve always had unnaturally high body heat and that continues to be true even now, perhaps even more so with the power of your transformation.

You continue on your trek, taking satisfaction in the sound of snow underneath you to combat the silence, and the progress you are making on your map of the grounds. You are about to turn off the path, marking the fork in the road, when a hand on your bare shoulder halts you. You turn to find a troubled Arianna, none of your other guildmates to be seen. 

“Perhaps, Sir Fafnir,” The princess begins, words hesitant yet no signs of cold present on her form. It seems she is also accustomed to this weather. “Perhaps we should regroup with our companions? They appear to be much more susceptible to the cold than you or I.” 

You only now see the stumbling figures of your friends in the distance, slowed by the raging winds. With a sheepish “Oh.”, you roll up the map and return to your guildmates, Arianna in tow. 

“About time, kid,” Bertrand chides upon your return, his words sarcastic but without edge. 

You bashfully nod, hoping with tight lips that the action suffices as an apology. Thankfully, it does.

“G-Gods, Faf,” Flavio starts through chattering teeth. “I don’t know how you d-do it, bearing the cold like this.”

His form is shaking, trembling, he is a leaf in the blustering gale. What a contrast to your sturdy stance. 

“You’re not cold?” A voice pipes quietly from behind Bertrand’s hulking figure. Chloe pokes her head out from behind his arm, curiosity playing upon her features. 

With a shake of the head you realize how frigid it must be. Your companions’ faces are stained vivid red, expressions twisted in endurance. You wish there was some way to assist them and share your unnatural heat. The moment the thought bubbles up in your mind, Chloe branches the distance between the two of you and attaches herself to your middle. 

“Wow,” she sighs with muted wonder, resting her head upon your torso. You can feel the ice that are her cheeks through your shirt. “You really are warm, Fafnir.”

“Wa-wait! Just how warm is he?” Your childhood friend blurts. To your surprise, he comes forward, seemingly forgetting his usually reserved nature. 

A hand hesitantly grazes your bare shoulder, the icicles that your friend’s fingers have become brushing against skin. You suppress a shiver at the touch. 

“Whoa, Faf!” Flavio exclaims. “You’re practically burning up!”

You shrug before tilting your head to the side, baring your neck in offering. Ever-faithful Flavio understands your gesture –he must after all the years spent together- and shyly moves to dig his head into your shoulder. His hair tickles your neck. 

Flavio’s hands snake underneath your arms to wrap around your front, just above Chloe’s form. He murmurs his thanks into your skin, most likely too embarrassed to speak any louder. His skin is chilled against your own, his cold seeping into you, yet you hope with time that will change.

“Hey, now!” Bertrand’s voice resounds through the forest, breaking the stillness. “What is he, your personal fireplace?”

Chloe lets out a whine that’s muffled by your shirt, before ignoring her relative and nuzzling deeper into your torso. Flavio simply ignores the commotion. 

“Hey, Chloe!” The protector gripes, reaching towards the girl as though to yank her away. You shake your head once he steps close. “Huh? Ain’t she bothering you?”

Another shake of the head.

The older man shrugs, his armor glinting and clinking as he does so. 

“Whatever you say, kid,” He moves away in feigned nonchalance. You can see the tremble in his guarded steps and the slight waver in his words.

“Bertrand,” you start, voice rough and unadjusted. Words were never your friend, let alone when trying to pry them out of your throat. The man turns, surprised at your address. He knows as well as you how scarce you speak. You shrug the shoulder Flavio is not occupying. 

“You’re cold, too,” you state awkwardly. Your simple words are blunt, but you hope they carry your meaning well enough.

Bertrand stands in silence for a moment with wide eyes and a slack jaw. He’s shocked; perhaps at your words, perhaps at the fact that they left your mouth at all. Once he finishes processing, he trudges over to you with the slightest upturn of the lips.

“Like I said, whatever you say, kid,” and with that the protector shifts behind you and rests his head atop yours, wrapping his arms around Flavio and what he can reach of Chloe.

“About time, old man,” Flavio mutters, hiding his grin in your shoulder. You can feel the turn of his lips against your skin. 

“Shut it, kid,” the man’s feigned irritation echoes above you. You can almost make out the rumble of his chest against your back. 

“Um…,” a voice crawls past the quiet of the grounds. You glance about and find the voice belongs to Arianna, who has been silent and to the side this whole time. She appears nervous, fidgeting with her hair ribbons and unable to meet your gaze. 

Chloe pops her head out of your shirt and you are idly pleased to note the healthy shade to her complexion. 

“You can join, Arianna,” The war magus addresses, still plastered around your middle. Her small smile brings about one of your own. 

“But, I am not chilled, Dame Chloe,” the noble replies, hands wringing and posture tense. “And it would hardly be appropriate…”

“Who’s going to judge you here, princess?” Bertrand huffs, his breath blowing your hair around. 

“W-well, no one else is about these grounds, Sir Bertrand,” she admits, resolve wavering in time with her words. “However, I must retain my stature as a scion of Caledonia.” 

“Suit yourself, Arianna,” Flavio calls, muffled by your shoulder. His lips and warm breath are a tickling comfort against your skin. “But, Faf is pretty comfortable; you’re missing out.”

At that, the princess edges closer, but only upon holding out your free arm to her, does she seem to shed this façade and come forward. She wraps one arm around yours, holding you precariously close, and one arm around Bertrand’s back. She releases a light giggle once she rests her head on your shoulder. Her hair spills over you in a lavender cascade.

“Looks like we finally found a family, huh, Faf?” Flavio breathes, ruffling Chloe’s hair and nuzzling into your neck. 

You have to hold back a laugh or a choke. You’re not sure which.

“Family,” Chloe affirms, punctuating her statement by further snuggling into your chest. 

“One big family, huh?” Bertrand’s voice is distant, nostalgic, lost on you. You wish you could see his expression. Or his thoughts. “Well, I could’ve chosen a worse group of people to call family.”

“I am eternally grateful that this journey has brought us together.” Arianna chirps, practically sings, from your shoulder.

“Agreed,” you force through your teeth, unable to simply nod without risking Bertrand’s position. Arianna, seemingly pleased with your effort, grips you all the tighter. 

You close your eyes and bask in the sensations of all this contact. You can almost hear their individual breaths and you lose yourself to their rhythms. You’ve never had any family besides Flavio, but you think now, you wouldn’t mind the change.


End file.
